


Quite a Match

by lyricalnights



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalnights/pseuds/lyricalnights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm reposting my old (very old) HP fanfiction so it'll all be in one place. This was written for Merry Smutmas 2004, so it's canon compliant through OotP only.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Quite a Match

**Author's Note:**

> I'm reposting my old (very old) HP fanfiction so it'll all be in one place. This was written for Merry Smutmas 2004, so it's canon compliant through OotP only.

"Hello?" Harry called, stepping through the doorway of the small, neat cottage out of a downpour. "Anyone willing to help a poor battered Seeker with his cloak?"

Ron looked up from his book and shifted in his chair to grin at Harry. "That depends on what's in it for me."

"My undying gratitude? My everlasting love? Wild monkey sex every night for the next hundred years?"

"It'll do for a start," sniffed Ron, rising slowly from the chair and favoring his left leg slightly as he crossed to Harry to unknot the sodden and tangled cloak ties. "You were brilliant today, by the way."

Harry laughed as Ron pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Well, I suppose I didn't completely embarrass myself, considering it's been almost four years since I rode a broom for purely recreational purposes. I think McGonagall is trying to take over from our dearly departed Lord Voldemort in offing me."

Ron snorted, but looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "The idea behind these exhibition matches is a good one, though. They take people's minds off of… the recent troubles, they raise money for the reconstruction of Hogwarts, and I think it's doing a lot of good to have all of you famous people out and about, being confident and leader-like and reassuring."

"I didn't feel so confident and leader-like when I almost took a nosedive into the stands. I don't think I'd ever have lived it down, especially not with Malfoy there, laughing like a loon every time I screwed up." Harry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose under his battered glasses. "I wish you had been able to play; I don't like knowing you aren't behind me to watch my back."

Ron sighed as he circled behind Harry and began rubbing his shoulders gently. "Believe me, I wanted to be up there as much as you wanted me to be. But the mediwizards haven't cleared this leg yet, and while I may not be the king of paying attention, I'm not quite stubborn enough to maim myself permanently for the sake of a charity Quidditch match."

He paused, running his fingers up through Harry's tangled hair and bending to brush his lips along Harry's neck to his ear. "I did have a very… interesting view of the first hour, though, before it started raining and that banshee who replaced Madam Pomfrey ran me home on a rail."

"Oh, really?" asked Harry, leaning his head into the touch of Ron's strong fingers and arching his neck. "And what was so very interesting about this wonderful view of yours?"

"Well," continued Ron, his teasing tone perfectly matching the light staccato of his fingers down the nape of Harry's neck. "I noticed Oliver Wood giving you the eye, for starters."

"He was not!" Harry jerked away briefly to stare, disbelieving, into Ron's dancing eyes before resuming his place snug against the broad chest. "You must be joking, or blind. He was just playing the game; you know how crazy he is about Quidditch."

"Oh-o, Harry mate, I'm not the blind one. He wants you bad. He was practically going cross-eyed trying to get a look at that fine Seeker's arse." Ron abruptly removed his hands from Harry's neck, only to have them appear suddenly on the fine arse in question, squeezing quickly.

Harry squeaked in a manner totally unbefitting a recent war hero, then reached backwards to grab a handful of Ron's own arse in retaliation. "You're not exactly unattractive from the rear yourself. But, supposing Oliver was leering at me, which I'm still fairly certain is a figment of your depraved imagination, shouldn't you be beating him half to death with that cane you pretend you don't need? I don't know if I should be involved with a lad who won't defend my virtue."

"I thought about it," Ron admitted. "Can't be letting people think you're free for the taking, after all. But then I thought about how Oliver's quite fit himself, and there are worse mental images than a gorgeous man like that doing his very best to please you, in any number of ways."

As Ron spoke, he lifted his hands to drift across Harry's throat, and then dropped them again, this time to the hem of the soaking Quidditch sweater. When Harry started to turn around, Ron stopped him, stripping off the wet sweater and tucking Harry back against his body.

"No, no turning around. And no speaking either, unless I ask you to."

He knew Harry loved it when Ron took control like this, talking frankly like he would never dare if he had to face Harry while he did it. To be honest, he also knew Harry would never admit to finding such vulnerability in himself sexy, and he relished the opportunity to bring that wanton abandonment of control to the surface.

"I started thinking of all the lovely things he could do to you, all the ways he could make you moan." Ron nuzzled into Harry's temple, breathing the words softly and directly into Harry's ear. Harry's breath had already picked up, whistling as he sucked in desperate mouthfuls of air.

"I'd like to watch that, I decided," Ron whispered. "I could sit right over there, in my favorite chair, and watch him touch you all over with his mouth and those big Keeper's hands I know you like so much."

Harry was practically hyperventilating now, his hands fisted tightly in the material of Ron's trousers just below his hips.

"Even better, I could tell him what to do while I watched, and you moaned. I could tell him how you liked to have your nipples touched, how you like it when I roll them under my fingers and pinch." Ron followed his words with movements, mimicking each action as Harry writhed against him.

"I could order him to grind up against you from behind, just like this." Ron's hips rolled forward in a tight circle that had Harry trembling at the knees. "I could tell him to run his hands down your stomach and beyond, down past that ticklish trail and across the tops of your thighs."

Ron's hands hovered at Harry's waistband, not quite offering release and relief yet. That would have to be earned. "What should Oliver do then, Harry? What do you want him to do?"

"Suck me," whispered Harry hoarsely. When this got him no closer to free of his trousers, he repeated the command more forcefully. "I want him to suck me, hard and fast. I want to feel his mouth around me while I look at you, watching us and wanking yourself."

"Mmm, that sounds nice," Ron said approvingly. He made short work of Harry's belt buckle and the snaps on the slightly damp trousers. He pulled both the trousers and the pants underneath down just far enough to give him free access, but no further. "What else?"

Harry gasped and twitched, trying to move his cock into the hand that hovered just out of touching distance. "And then, then I want him to fuck me from behind, deep and slow."

Ron's hand circled Harry's cock, his stroke light and teasing, almost unbearable.

"He'll fuck me while I'm on my knees in front that chair, sucking you off. I'll take you in so far your eyes will roll back in your head. I'll be tasting you for weeks."

Ron's hand tightened, stroking over Harry's cock in earnest, enjoying the sensation of having no more lubrication than a few drops of pre-come and the sweat of his palm and Harry's stomach mingled together.

"He'll fuck me with that huge cock of his and I'll be moaning around your cock and rolling your balls between my fingers. Yessss, just like that." Harry hissed as Ron made that part of their joint fantasy a reality, reaching under Harry's cock with his free hand to add one more delicious sensation.

"How will we come?" Ron panted into Harry's ear as his hands moved frantically and Harry pressed back against him as though trying to fuse their skins. "Tell me, Harry!"

"Screaming," Harry choked out after a hazy moment spent trying to see if his tongue could still form the words. "Sucking and fucking and panting and… screaming."

Harry tensed and came, his head flung back against Ron's shoulder and his body arching out, held up only by his death grip on Ron's trousers. He shuddered and gasped as Ron's hands took him through each aftershock, milking the orgasm for every hint of pleasure.

Ron laughed softly as Harry hung limply in his arms. "How was that for a post-match reward?" he enquired.

Harry turned to face him now, pulling Ron's head down for a long slow kiss. He kneaded Ron's shoulders as they pushed tongues into each other's mouths and sucked frantically at equally bitten lips.

At length, they broke apart and Harry smiled. "Pretty nice, as rewards go. How about you lie back in that chair and I'll show you just how much I enjoyed it."

Harry had no sooner sunk to his knees and reached for Ron's belt when the doorbell, sounding practically malicious to Harry's ears, rang three times in quick succession.

He was all set to ignore the interruption, well-wishers and public opinion be damned, but Ron urged him to his feet and told him to go see who it was, that Ron could wait a few minutes more for his pleasure. He hurried to the door, refastening his clothing before he reached for the handle.

"Hiya, mate!" Harry's confusion and embarrassment must have shown on his face, but Oliver, true to form, either failed to see or flatly ignored it. "Invite a fellow in, won't you? I saw Ron leaving the match while I was down getting my shoulder set, and he told me to pop round for tea. What are we having?"

As Harry gently shut the door, he caught Ron's smirk and briefly wondered if Oliver knew what was on the menu for pudding. Harry knew he'd enjoy breaking the news.

~Fin~


End file.
